


Happy Happy Birthday

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Birthday Fluff, Come Eating, Come Marking, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Married Couple, Rutting, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: What better day than Happy's very birthday to make sure Tony gives his body the worship it deserves. He's got it all planned out.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Happy Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



> This is my favorite part of your id and I hope I did a good job of it. The following tags appear:  
> \- Characters expressing their emotions toward each other through food  
> \- Food as a Metaphor for Love  
> \- Belly Ache - Hand Feeding Kink Results In Stomach Ache Requiring Aftercare  
> \- Lovingly worship of rolls of flesh caused by clothes digging into a chubby character  
> \- Character very distracted when chubby interest wears tight clothes leads to hot sex  
> \- Ejaculating on fat belly and licking it clean

Making dinner is usually Happy's thing, always has been, because Tony is pretty useless at not leaving the kitchen a mess, burning pasta, or somehow letting pressure cookers explode time and again. Tonight though, tonight is different, because it's Happy's birthday, and he had to go in to work with Pepper already so Tony is set on making sure he doesn't have to lift a finger when he gets home. 

Which is why he hired a chef. Because wrecking the house with domestic incidents for the umpteenth time would not qualify as gifting his husband a peaceful evening for his big day, and Happy loves good cuisine. Loves it so much he makes the sweetest little noises every time they go to fancy restaurants or order in from starred chefs. Tony likes Happy's noises, a lot, and he likes his husband happy even more. 

Alejandro's italian recipes are so good they remind Tony of home, and of his mother, even though Maria Stark was never a great cook herself — it's a good flavor to celebrate his husband, and the fact that he can just sit and watch the master at work is a plus Tony can't deny. 

So Tony observes, smells, and delights in the fact that this will for sure please Happy. He can already picture the face he'll make when they sit down to eat and has to excuse himself when his body invariably reacts to the mental image. He busies himself with making sure he looks good for his husband, showering and shaving and doing his hair — but not too much, because, as Happy says, time has passed since they slicked their hair back in the 00's. 

He chooses to wear a suit, the one Happy says makes his ass look great, and his arms even better. It's tailor-made, as are all of Tony's suits, but this one in particular seems to get his husband from naught to sixty the fastest, so he puts it on with hands that shake from anticipation. 

Fifteen years, since he and Happy first met, since the man came in, large as the world both in stature and in personality, and swept the ground under Tony's feet. Fifteen years since Obie said he should get himself a private driver —  _ "You're the boss now. Act like it." _ — and Tony hired Pepper as his personal assistant, and Pepper found Happy. 

Fifteen years since their eyes first met and Tony laughed at Happy's crudeness for the first time, and not the last. The big mouth on that man, Tony would never get enough of it. 

Thirteen years, since Tony gathered enough courage to say something, to let Happy know how he thought of him, and ended up unable to say anything at all — because Happy had kissed him first, and when Happy kissed him, it was with his whole body, and Tony was lifted off the ground, Happy's strong arms around him and his large hands busy with both Tony's hair and his ass, and all Tony had been able to do was wrap his legs around the man, and there they went. 

Fifteen years of a friendship, that turned into thirteen years of a love that consumed him, that turned into seven years of marriage the very day they were allowed to tell the world they were in love and to put a ring on it. 

When Happy does come home, freed of company duty, Tony is waiting for him on the sofa, fidgeting with his wedding ring and feeling too sappy to say much, but a trembling, "Happy birthday baby." And it's all that's needed. Happy grins at him, and walks to him fast enough that what he's wearing only registers afterwards, when he's kissing Tony and as usual, Tony's feet leave the carpet. 

"Are you wearing the tightest sweater and pants in the world right now?" Tony groans, right into Happy's lips, still securely held in Happy's arms but forced to notice just how naked Happy feels against him — all of his softness within reach under the thin black turtleneck that covers him. 

"Pepper had an emergency charity thing, and my suits are at the cleaner, you know, since I wasn't  _ supposed _ to work today." 

"Hmm," Tony hums, thoroughly distracted by the sight of his husband now that he's back on terra firma. 

The black jeans hug his thighs in every right place, and his sweater is taut over Happy's belly, and his belt — that oughts to hurt — digs into his waist to create another bump below it. 

"Earth to Tony Stark." Happy laughs. 

"You look too good in these. Motion for you to only wear that," Tony gestures at Happy's entire body, "or nothing, from now on."

"You certainly would like that, my boss on the other end—"

"I'm your boss!" Tony squeaks. 

"Not since you gave Pepper your job, no." Happy crosses his arms — an illegal amount of arms that Tony wants to be crushed by always — "Is that Italian I'm smelling?" 

Tony watches Happy's face go from a smile to a grin and he can't help but respond in kind. 

"Happy birthday, baby." 

* * *

Happy's face is torn between his discomfort and the pleasure of the food he's had — it's a look Tony's familiar with, which does nothing to tamper the ardor of Tony's reaction to it. He's hard enough to curse the tightness of his suit pants, and to hiss when he bends down and kneels at the foot of the tub. He smiles though, because Happy's sigh when he gets settled into the warm water is beautiful, and the faint flush of his cheeks is even more so. 

With his hands still in the water, Tony adjusts his position so he can put them back on Happy's belly, and starts rubbing the swollen spread of it. 

"How does that feel?" He asks, barely loud enough to be heard, afraid he'll break the magic of this moment. He pushes the palms of his hands in Happy's flesh, kneads the rolls of fat his movements and Happy's sitting position create. He rubs the red marks of Happy's belt in his skin, and it's all he can do not to climb into the bathtub himself to kiss it all better. 

"Okay," Happy tells him, and the way he sounds, out-of-breath and almost ashamed makes Tony ache for him all the more. 

"You're so beautiful." He says, and bites his bottom lip, hard enough to hurt, just so he can feel something else for all of two seconds but the raw need that has settled inside his loins the more he fed his husband with the tips of his fingers. The more Happy ate of the delicious bread Alejandro made for them. The more Happy's tongue came to lick at his thumb and forefinger and collect every drop of pesto rosso he could. 

Tony keeps rubbing, pushes Happy's belly one way, then the other, goes through the dance of pressing his hands up Happy's flanks and inward to put pressure on his bloated stomach. 

"I'm so hard right now, I could come just from doing this and looking at you." 

"Wouldn't be the f— first time." Happy comments, the smile on his face unmocking, but aroused, too. 

"It would not, indeed." Tony confirms, leaning up to kiss Happy's flushed cheek, and lick at the seam of his lips. 

Happy turns his face just so, and one of his big hands, wet with foamy bathwater, makes its way into the hair at the nape of Tony's neck. Being kissed by Happy is at the very top of Tony's favorite things, and the way he still tastes of the tiramisu's  _ mascarpone _ and caffeinated cocoa makes them both sigh in kind. It's delicious, and it's soft, and just like the dessert was, it's a caress for hearts that may have been sore once, but only expand to welcome more love the more time passes and they are still here for one another. 

"I'm clean enough," Happy whispers into Tony's ear, the steam in the room making their skins damp and his following words somehow even sexier, "so I'm going to get out of here, and we're going to get into bed, and you're going to ride me, and keep rubbing my stomach just like you were doing. Sounds good?" 

Tony doesn't know if the sound he makes then is a moan or a sob, something in between. It doesn't matter when it all comes down to his whispering his assent as fiercely as is possible. Fucker knows how to play with Tony's mind, and it's even easier when Tony can't think of anything else he'd rather be doing than make love to his husband until they both cry, or drool, or something. 

Tony bats Happy's hands away when the man gets out of the bath and grabs the fluffy towel off the counter. 

"Let me." He says, doesn't ask. This is another part Tony has literal dreams about. Drying each bit and part of Happy's body like a well behaved harem slave. He just loves it. The way the towel wraps around his hand and he can softly rub Happy's skin everywhere, careful to go into every fold and brush over every bump, spending more time than is probably necessary on his belly, and doing the same with the flesh of his back, over his shoulders and in the dip of his spine, circling back to his waist when he puts both his hands in the towel and steadies it at Happy's hips, only to drag it down his sides, thighs, and calves all the way down. 

He loves it, and the gentle way Happy breathes through it and lets him have his way prompts Tony to drop little kisses everywhere he can reach. A love handle trapped under Happy's heavy arm, an asscheek just waiting for him to press his face, and beard, against it, the hollowed lines at the back of his knees. 

"I love you." Tony whispers against Happy's shoulder blade, "I love you so fucking much I could do this all day long." 

"Not just this." Happy laughs, and turns around to grab Tony's hand. Tony lets him drag into the bedroom. 

When they slide down onto their bed, Tony has managed to finally get out of his suit and can enjoy the way their bodies melt into each other, how he fits so easily onto Happy's lap, how his own eagerness to be close means the plumpness of Happy's everything flattens and molds itself to Tony's own shape. It's glorious, and more so when Happy wraps his arms around him and Tony is once again surrounded in the cocoon of warmth that is his husband. He feels hot all over, his cock filled to bursting, a line of heat pressing into Happy's stomach.

"I know you're close already." Happy tells him, and Tony can feel him grin as he nuzzles his cheek. 

"You're not?" Tony asks in return, never one to back from a challenge — even when he's taken aback by just how out-of-breath he already sounds as they continually rock against one another, his thighs perched atop Happy's as they sit against the headboard, lost in each other. 

Happy chuckles again, and pulls the rug under Tony's competitive streak as he does, "Always." 

They stop talking after that, save for the occasional whispered endearment and praise, Happy's low voice growling moans in Tony's ear. They rut against each other, Tony's cock trapped between them still and one of his hands sliding under Happy's belly to stroke his husband as they go. The sheets ruffle and rumple under them, Happy's bath-clean skin covering with sweat all over again and Tony not far behind. Their lips bump into feverish kisses, traveling down necks and shoulders and skipping back up to lick at earlobes, searing hot mouth closing around each other's tongue as Tony fucks into Happy's belly and Happy fucks into his fist. 

Tony feels himself lose it not long after. His toes curl into Happy's thighs, his fist tightens even more around Happy's cock, and he buries his face in Happy's neck — his cock paints Happy's belly with come that sticks to both their skins, and Happy groans a frankly filthy curse into his hair as he does the same with Tony's hand. 

"Fuck. That was good." Happy says, quieter than usual, his head propped against the headboard. 

"Not over though." Tony winks at him, grinning when Happy raises an eyebrow in answer. 

Tony slips off Happy's lap, kneeling between his parted legs instead, and first licks each of his fingers, looking straight into Happy's eyes. 

"Dirty bastard." Happy laughs, but his voice sounds strained, his chest heaving with more than the orgasms they just shared. 

Tony doesn't respond, instead, when he's finished savoring the taste of his husband's come on his hand, he leans down, and keeping eye contact, starts licking his own off Happy's belly. He moans and Happy follows suit. He laps at his own spend like it's more of the delicious mascarpone they licked off each other's spoons. He delights in the shivers that course through his husband's body, and doesn't give a fuck that he's getting come all over his goatee. 

"C'mere." Happy says, gruff as ever, when Tony's all done cleaning him up. He grabs Tony's sides and repositions him on his lap — the manhandling is rare enough but fuck if it's hot — and then angles Tony's head so that he's looking at the ceiling. Then he starts sucking on Tony's chin and jaw, lapping up Tony's beard for all the come he's smeared into it. 

"Now who's the filthy horndog, uh?" Tony jokes, and laughs when Happy simply keeps going. 

A happy birthday indeed. 


End file.
